Eun-woo was curled up on the floor, wrapped in the bed covers as if they could protect him from more than just the cold. His hands were buried in his hair, squeezing so tightly it hurt.
How do I explain that this happens to me all the time?
For Eun-woo, suddenly fainting was a normal part of his life. Sometimes it happened from a spontaneous fever, and other times from a tightness in his chest that prevented air from reaching his lungs. He had learned to live with it. It never alarmed the Men in White, and since they didn't take him out of his cell for it, he assumed it wasn't a big deal.
The other Specimens got sick more often. Some would throw themselves against the walls until they bled, while others would simply bleed to death for no apparent reason. He had learned this from the Men in White themselves; the times they came, opened the grate, and whispered things were ideal opportunities to learn about the other Specimens' situation.
Many lost their sanity. Some did so slowly over time. Others had already arrived broken. Eun-woo believed himself to be whole. Among the variety of Specimens, he thought he was the most stable. But that no longer seemed true. Now that he was out of the Research Center, that idea was beginning to crumble.
Since arriving at the glass house, he had ignored many things. He had clung to a mask of innocence, pretending he was free, that everything he was experiencing was real and not another kind of experiment, but he couldn't take it anymore.
The walls were so thin that any noise penetrated them. The smells pooled and mingled: soap, damp wood, sweat, and blood. It clung to his nose. The textures, the colors, the light filtering through the cracks... the world was too much for him.
And that room… it was too big, too empty, too unstable.
He felt the ceiling tilt, the walls breathe, the floor rotate beneath his feet. Objects vibrated, as if they too wanted to escape.
The room was suffocating him.
He missed his cell —that prison without sound, without smell, without memory. Gray, silent, and motionless. Where he could shut out the world and where he didn't feel as much.
Why was he there?
Rhys had sneaked him out, that much was obvious. But why? What did he want from him?
He didn't know.
And he hadn't asked either.
He was so excited to be out that he forgot everything else. He'd lied to himself, and he couldn't hold it in anymore.
He couldn't handle the murmur of his thoughts.
I have to get out of here.
He opened his eyes with a start and walked to the window. He placed both palms on the glass before closing his eyes tightly.
He didn't know how to open it. He had nothing to break it with, but he had to get out.
He had to do it.
A flash of rage crossed his heart, like a spark igniting an invisible fire.
He struck the glass.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
The glass cracked.
A fourth time.
A fifth.
And then the glass broke.
Blood sprayed across his face, but he didn't stop. He kept hitting with an already wounded hand, his knuckles split, his skin torn to shreds. He didn't understand why it hurt, nor why he wouldn't stop.
"Eun-woo! Stop it!" Rhys's voice cut through the room.
Eun-woo turned around, his breath ragged. Standing before him were Rhys, Jae, and Rong Ye. Rong Ye's eyes were wide open in horror. Jae wasn't moving, and Rhys raised his hands slowly as he walked toward him.
There was no sign of Caelan.
"What's... going on?" Eun-woo asked in a whisper.
"Leave shard," Rhys ordered softly.
Eun-woo looked down.
The ground was covered in sharp fragments, and a pool of blood spread beneath his feet. His arms bore long, deep red lines. In his right hand, he still clutched a shard of glass.
He blinked, dazed.
The shard slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
"Now, Caelan!" Rhys shouted.
Caelan appeared behind him, holding him from behind in a grip that felt like a hug. Eun-woo reflexively struggled, kicking and flailing his arms, but Rhys knelt and held his legs. Together, they threw him down onto the bed.
"Let me go! Rhys, I didn't do anything wrong!"
Rong Ye approached and began examining him with some strange tools.
"Bring bandages, two pairs of socks, and more blankets," Rong Ye ordered Jae when the examination was finished.
"Rhys..." Eun-woo whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't do anything..."
Rhys held his breath.
That voice and that expression...
He denied it silently.
"You hurt yourself."
Then Eun-woo remembered.
His hands on the glass, the banging and the sound of breaking glass. The feeling of the world swallowing him up, and the fear.
He had lost control.
"Sorry..." he muttered with teary eyes.
Rhys gritted his teeth, unable to speak. Caelan looked at him, waiting for instructions. Rong Ye covered the cuts. Jae returned with the bandages, his face paler than usual.
Eun-woo clutched the blankets as if they could anchor him to the world. His hands felt trembling, damp with dried blood and cold sweat, his fingers stiff with effort. He didn't know when they let go. They didn't need him anymore. He had already given up. His body no longer responded. They moved him, they healed him, they tucked him in... and he just existed.
His eyelids began to droop. The world became distorted, with Rhys and the others' voices sounding increasingly distant, as if speaking from underwater.
Eun-woo didn't want to sleep.
Not now.
He forced his eyes to stay open, to focus on the ceiling, faces, or anything that would keep him awake. But it didn't work.
It was as if everything inside him had been drained all at once.
It wasn't tiredness.
It was empty.
Before the darkness completely enveloped him, he thought something that froze his blood:
If I'm becoming like the other Specimens… then maybe there's no saving me.
And with that last thought, Eun-woo fell asleep.